Page 25 of My Dark Horse Prince

“You’re naked,” I hiss. “Put me down now.”

“She has a point,” Kris says.

“I’m not naked.” Grigoriy grits his teeth. “But I see your meaning. We’ll go to my room, we can both get cleaned up, and then we’ll meet you back here in an hour.” He cuts his eyes toward Kris, and I realize that when he said ‘we,’ he meant himself and me.

“Oh, no,” I say. “There will be no ‘cleaning up’ together. No going back to your room, either.” I struggle in his arms. “Put me down. I’ll go find a place to clean up myself.”

“You’re not safe—”

Irritation pulses through me, and I pick up my hand and flick as hard as I can on the end of his nose. It works.

He drops me.

Although, it could have worked better. Landing hard on my butt isn’t exactly comfortable, and shooting pains claw their way through my leg. At least I’m not being held by Conan the Barbarian anymore.

“You’re hurt?” Kris drops down at my side. “How bad is it?”

“She’s hurt?” Grigoriy bends toward me.

Kris throws an arm up. “Not so fast, Mike Tyson.”

“Who?” Aleks asks. “Why do people keep calling him storm and Mike? His name is Grigor—”

“We know,” I say. “And I think Kris and I just need some space.”

Grigoriy’s frown deepens. “But—”

“Listen to them,” Aleks says. “You and I need to talk.”

Grigoriy still looks just as upset, but he stops arguing as Kris helps me stand and leads me down the hallway. “We can use the room Aleks and I stay in when we have contractors to meet.”

“Whoa, you stay in the same room?”

Kris smirks. “Did I mention. . .we’re engaged?”

I can’t help squealing. “You are?”

“Don’t be too hard on Grigoriy,” Kris says. “He may not be nearly as bad as he seems. He’s been unconscious for a hundred years, and—”

“How is his house still his?” I ask.

“It wasn’t,” Kris says. “But Aleks bought it for him.”

“Your pauper of a horse-trainer bought this?” I can’t keep the incredulity out of my voice.

Kris laughs. “He’s not really a pauper, as it turns out. In fact, we’re quite wealthy.”

I pause for a moment to process that. “Wait. . .wealthy?”

“He’s buy-a-small-island-and-stock-it-with-whatever-we-want-and-travel-with-a-private-jet wealthy,” she says.

The hope that rises in my chest is terrifying. “Does that mean. . .” I swallow. “Does that mean you can loan me the money for my surgery?”

Kris spins me toward her and wraps her arms around me, squeezing as tightly as she can. “Oh, Mirdza. I’m so sorry I lost my phone and you had so many bad things happen on your way here. Of course I’ll loan you whatever you need.” She snorts. “Actually, forget loaning it. I’m going to have to insist that you let me just pay for it. Alright?”

In the past two days, I’ve been deprived of sleep, terrorized, thanked, criticized, attacked, left for dead, healed, toted around horseback and by a huge naked man, and I’ve seen a horse turn into a man.

But it was all worth it.

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